Eldest and Fallen
by Kirasel
Summary: AU. Serah is the first child, the eldest of two. Different paths can lead to the same road.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Final Fantasy XIII.

* * *

Serah is pretty. She's sweet. She's kind. She's cheerful.

Serah is eighteen. She has just graduated from high school. She's ready to greet the world with a smile.

Serah is staring blankly at her reflection in her mirror.

Serah is fake. Serah is lying.

The truth is that she doesn't believe any of it, and the truth is that she hasn't told anyone the entire truth since she was twelve. She has no idea what she's doing with her life. School was a quick blur – a succession of assignments and projects all done with an almost automatic mindset and trying _so very hard _not to let her grades slip or fall asleep in class. And now she's done with that, it's all looking at the sky wondering what to do next. Certainly, she can go to a college or university. She's a good student, and she's pretty sure that if she applied, she'd be accepted. But after that, what can she do…?

It's easy to know what she wants out of life. She wants happiness. Happiness is the warm feeling in her stomach when she knows everything in the world is _right _and everything is fine. Happiness is sitting with her younger sister and making her smile. Happiness is sitting on the roof on her house, and watching the sun set.

Happiness is doing the same thing over and over again. Happiness is the bland expression on her face and the bitter laugh that everyone mistakes as real. Happiness is…

…someone else's definition she's sick of.

She wants to know that she's done everything right. She wants her sister to be safe and happy by _her _definition. She wants her sister to see her as _not useless _and _respect _her.

Funny how so much of what she wants revolves around her sister.

Then again, she hasn't had any respect from her sister in years. Claire stopped respecting her when she broke down at their mother's funeral. When she started crying and Claire… didn't. And when Claire had somehow decided that she was _responsible, _and Serah wasn't. That Serah was fragile, Serah needed to be loved, Serah needed _careful _handling because she was much too breakable to be taken seriously. And Serah didn't notice that until it was far too late, and then it turned out that all her little sister thought of her was that she was a weak little girl that needed to be _protected. _

She never cried again after she figured _that _out.

But once you're labeled _weak, _it's so much harder to climb back up to being strong again. And she _wants _to be strong. She's the older sister. She isn't supposed to be the pretty glass ornament on the mantle. She shouldn't _need _to be protected. She shouldn't _need _Claire to hover over her shoulder, worrying about _if _she might hurt herself, worrying about _if _someone would hurt her feelings, worrying _if _something might happen. That's… That's supposed to be Serah's job. Not Claire's.

And she can't even do that properly. She loves Claire - of course she does - but she can't help but feel a bit of resentment whenever she talks to Claire about her worries. There's this almost _indulgent _feeling around her, as if Serah's just silly for worrying about Claire. Of course, Serah, you don't need to worry about Claire. Claire's going to be fine. And her voice is just _ever _so slightly condescending, like the way a parent speaks to a very young child.

Serah is _sick _of that.

Maybe it's all because she's too nice. Maybe she's too soft.

Either way, she still doesn't know what she's going to do with her life.

She does have a job, of course. Getting a means of support was the only way she was allowed to keep Claire - the only way that she could avoid the foster homes and being split up. So she smiles and laughs for the tourists of Bodhum – she's a guide, she's a waitress, she's a cashier, and it all meshes together so perfectly that everything she does is on schedule and there are so many different masks to put on she's not quite sure what she is anymore. She had _planned _to be a schoolteacher after school– she loves children, and teaching wasn't hard. But… Claire wouldn't…

Claire wouldn't think any less of her, but she wouldn't think any _more _of her either. Because that was just like Serah, wasn't it? Predictable, predictable Serah? Predictable, soft, nice, _weak _Serah?

So like her to pick a job where she _smiles and laughs and nothings ever hard and she's sick of _smiling_ like that and lying and lying and lying -!_

Serah doesn't see why she shouldn't be different for a change.

So that is the reason…

_That is_ why she is wearing her shiny new uniform.

_That _is the reason why she is a new recruit of the Guardian Corps.

Who'd have thought?

She laughs. Laughs at her reflection in the mirror. Laughs at the pistol resting at her hip. She laughs and she laughs and maybe she's just a little bit hysterical but no one cares about that. She's stupid to think this way. She'll get herself killed, and she probably won't be remembered. She'd be better off working as a schoolteacher, marrying a nice boy, and having a big family that she can keep house for. Wasn't that what she wanted, all those years ago? Hell, wasn't that what she wanted two months ago? Two days ago? Two _hours _ago?

And yet…. and _yet - !  
_

That wasn't what she wanted at all.

She looks into the mirror - and maybe she never even stopped looking at it - and her reflection looks back and _smirks _at her. This is who she is. And she wants her pride back. She wants her respect. She takes a deep breath, turning the pistol loaded with blanks in her hands, over and over again.

This is who she is.

Or maybe it's who she wants to be.

It's all so terribly self-centered, isn't it…?

She can't help giggling. She's so stupid to think this way.

But this way…

"Serah! I'm home!"

She'll have something of her own to be proud of.

* * *

I really should be trying to edit. Instead, I wrote this. Because it's been a while. I've been thinking about it for a long time. I kind of thought it'd be longer, y'know? Like, multichapterall (I don't think that's a word) and stuff...? For now, I guess, it can stand as a oneshot. I can continue it if I like... Or maybe I'll delete this in a few days.

Anyway, the title... anyone get the reference? Technically, I don't even own the title, I'm sorry to say. I thought it fit well enough, though.

This is a bit too short, isn't it?


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Final Fantasy XIII.

* * *

"Serah! I'm home!" And the tone of voice isn't exactly cheerful, but it's really the best that Claire can do.

Claire's never really cheerful. She never really smiles, either. Maybe Serah's just a horrible sister for letting Claire stop smiling, but the truth is that Claire didn't smile much even when their parents were both still alive. Oh, the smile would still be there – but it was small. So small. It's even smaller now. Just a slight upward twitch in the corner of her lips.

She's wearing it now, Serah notices, as she walks into the kitchen. Along with a badly tailored sweater and her school bag. Both used to be Serah's. There's a twinge of guilt, since Serah knows that Serah's the one who tried tailoring the sweater and Claire still has to use… what? Three belts to hold it in place? Yes, one around the hips in the normal position, but then one under her chest and two coming from the shoulders leading to nowhere. Not three, then. Four – _four? – _and that's even worse. Serah hopes Claire doesn't really need four belts just for that. Hopes that it's just some kind of… fashion statement.

"S-Serah…?" Claire seems to be choking. Serah knows why. More guilt. She tries to pretend it doesn't exist. Quickly, Serah turns her gaze back to her sister's face. Claire's lips are parted, her eyes are wide, and the twitch that could have passed for a smile is completely _gone._

Serah self-consciously smoothes down the coat of her uniform. She should probably say something. Something like, 'Hey, I'm a GS recruit now' or 'Sorry, but we needed the money' or 'The military was getting small, and they were going around recruiting today…' Instead, there's a strangled-sounding "Hi, Claire. How's school today?", and her lips turn up in a bright smile, smiling like she always does when Claire comes home and _what is wrong with her. _

"Everything all right?" she babbles, wondering why is she talking about this this isn't right what is she doing. "The whole business with Arlene sorted out? It's not like you to start a fight like that! Really, Claire – I can't ground you, because your hobbies are pretty much non-existent – you need to get a hobby, really, it's not healthy to spend all your time on schoolwork and P.E. – but I suppose it could be argued she had it coming and I talked to your teacher about it a few days ago, and no one's getting expelled. He's settling for detention, lots of it, but I couldn't really argue him down, so you'll just have to bear with it, and-"

What is she doing what is she doing _why the hell _is she acting like nothing happened. She could have said anything. She could have said, 'I got a new uniform' or 'They're having a community play at the children's center' or even 'I was bored so I joined the military' - because when she looks at it from a different angle, _yes _that decision was _that_ shallow - but she settles for _that? _This was just asking for a blow-up. Not just a blow-up. A _nuclear explosion of the highest order. _And it was far, far too late to change what she said now.

Serah realizes she's still talking and _things _are coming out of her mouth in a strange, mixed-up waterfall that's so fast she's not entirely sure what nonsense she's spouting. "- why can't you be friendswith people, honestly, it can't be that hard. Even acquaintances. Maybe I didn't have all that many friends, but I had acquaintances! Unless you're not telling me something. Claire, are you not telling me something? I'm trustworthy! Are you embarrassed? Ooh, do you have a boyfriend I don't know about? You should bring your boyfriend over and then we can _chat _because I'm sure your boyfriend isn't _nearly _good enough for you, tell me his last name, I'm sure I can check with his parents to see if he's a nice boy or not- though he better not be _just _nice, he'd better be _amazing _if he knows what's good for him -"

This was not good in any way, shape, or form.

She looks closer at Claire, and winces. Claire doesn't look angry. She looks confused, maybe a little scared, and she has the face of someone who's _about _to be angry - but she doesn't look actually angry. That's good. But the reason that might be so is that Serah is rambling like there's no tomorrow and there's no possible way for Claire to cut in and actually _sound _angry unless she screams.

" – we're having stew for dinner today, beef was on sale, so I got some bread from that bakery you like-"

"What the hell," Claire says. "What the hell." Blankly, not even all that loudly. No anger, no surprise, just an expressionless face and, "What the hell."

Serah stops and sighs. She takes a seat at the kitchen counter, props her head on her arms. "Thank you for shutting me up," she says quietly. What was that…?

"No problem." Claire sits down too, the schoolbag dropped on the floor. Serah catches it, hopes the textbooks aren't damaged.

Silence.

Then, "So, Guardian Corps, huh…?"

* * *

Out of breath. She's out of breath and her throat's raw and her legs aren't working properly it hurts _bad _but she won't stop, can't stop running. She's not allowed to, and even if she was, she needs to do this, doesn't she, so she might as well do it as good as she can. So instead of concentrating on how much everything hurts and how she can't breathe, she thinks instead. Not the thinking about how much longer this would take or how long she's already been running. That's a worthless train of thought to pursue and would probably make her feel worse. No. Something less straight-cut, something with loads of little trails to ramble off onto.

That way, she's distracted and she won't think so hard about 'I'm dying I can't breathe someone get me water I'm dying it hurts arggh.'

Her hair is plastered to her face – _hair. _She grabs onto that thought like a lifeline. Her _hair._ It's been cut – of course it has – to a few inches short of shoulder length. She misses her old hairstyle, but at least she gets to keep her bangs, which were pretty non-descript in the first place. Maybe she should have dyed it, too. She doesn't mind pink, honestly, she rather likes it, but pink in the military was a little _off_.

She's an official recruit, with her nice shiny uniform that she's been told to wear _specifically _with a Battleship Gray shade turtleneck sweater, oh yes, that's totally different from Taupe Gray or Slate Gray or just plain gray. And it has to be _specifically _folded at a _specific _angle up to _specifically _her elbows with the beige coat _specifically _belted around a certain part of her waist and the shoulder guards – oh no, it's _pauldrons, _isn't it, she didn't even know that was a word - are polished to a perfect shine or _else. _The _pauldrons_ are just digging into her shoulders, too, and if Claire knew -

… Claire.

Claire.

Of course her mind wanders to _Claire. _Oh, Claire. Her younger, adorable little sister. Her adorable, logical, stubborn, angry little sister.

Fine. She'd thought it'd be fine. Claire had been so calm when they started talking a few days ago. Peaceful, almost. Even friendly. So much so that Serah went into the conversation thinking that it was all going to be fine. Sure, maybe it'd be just a little rough, but Claire was acting mature and tolerant and accepting, right?

That didn't turn out so well. She really shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't like she had been expecting anything different.

_"Why… Guardian Corps, Serah?"_

Why. _Why. _That was the obvious question. Of course it was. The sensible question. The one that anyone with any common sense would have asked. And what could she say? That she felt like it? That she wanted to do something different? Flimsy, flimsy excuses. And suddenly, it all sounded dumb. Stupid, stupid Serah. Listen to reason, will you?

_"Serah? Why ar… no. You're not saying anything. You… you don't even know why?"_

Stupid Serah. Not _thinking _about things. Saying "to have something of my own to be proud of"? Claire could come up with a counter-argument to that in seconds.

_"Let me get this straight. You joined the military and you don't even have a reason why?"_

Of course she had a reason, but she can't explain….

_"What the hell! Why did you – what the hell where you thinking?"_

She was thinking that… that…

_"You could get hurt! You could get torn apart and left to die slowly by a feral beast! Yes, YOU COULD DIE! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"_

She…

_"Did you think this through at all? Did you even consider this? You… I can't believe you could do something this STUPID!"_

She… well.

_"I…"_

…snapped.

_"Serah-!"_

_"Of course you could believe I could do something this stupid! You ALWAYS think I'm stupid! I'm sick of it!"_

It's been a while since she's lost her temper.

_"It's always 'Serah, don't you think this is a bad idea?' 'Serah, shouldn't you do this, shouldn't you do this, what you're doing is always a bad idea, shouldn't you think of something else!" _

_"…Serah?"_

_"I felt like it, okay? I joined the military because I felt like it. That a problem?" _

_"SERAH, YOU DON'T JUST….Serah? You never act like this, what's wrong? What happened?"_

Something just _had _to be wrong for her to be upset?

_"Look, do you have a fever or something? We could get you out of GC if you could claim that you were sick at the time-"_

Out of GC. _Out of GC. _She remembers, vaguely, thinking that this was the moment. The moment where everything goes wrong, if _something goes wrong, _Serah will back down and apologize like she always done, and, with a lot of prodding, gets dishonorably discharged from the military, since the contract she signed was for five years, not five _hours_. And she makes her decision there.

_"SHUT THE HELL UP!"_

Her hand is still sore from slamming it on the counter, and she's very, very lucky that she didn't injure herself since the odd way she hit the counter was pretty much the equivalent of punching a wall.

_"I am NOT delusional and like HELL am I signing out of the military! THIS IS MY DAMN BUSINESS! STAY OUT OF IT!"_

She had ended the conversation right there and stormed off. She didn't _want _to talk anymore – she was too pissed off. That was a first. Getting really angry. Serah never gets _angry. _Serah doesn't do that. Sure, she gets irritated, annoyed, maybe a little frustrated, but only those little minor emotions that could be hidden with practice and a sweet smile. Why… that time, why couldn't she smile and just argue her point…? That would have gotten much better results. She wouldn't be having this _problem._

She's been avoiding Claire the past few days. Sure, she still takes care of dinner and sure, she still does pretty much all of the chores around the house. But she hasn't talked to Claire and hasn't run into Claire at all. Because, then, maybe by the time they talk again, Serah will have worked things out with herself. Because that confrontation didn't go _anything _like Serah thought it would. On Serah's part, of course. Because she has a tight control on anger, and she shouldn't have wanted to _hurt _and _hurt _until there was nothing left of her _enemy. _Her _enemy, _not her sister. She shouldn't have felt so self-satisfied at the look on her sister's face.

Because Claire had been _scared. _Actually and truly scared. Claire wasn't scared of anything. Claire _isn't _scared of anything. So why…?

Maybe yelling and screaming is scariest coming from someone who you least expect it from.

She contemplates this thought for a while, before the sergeant bellows, "That's enough for today! Line up!"

And suddenly exhaustion and pain slam into her - _Eden, her lungs burn - _and it doesn't feel like her legs are working properly as she drags herself into place, her back ramrod straight and her arm snapping up into a salute that she desperately hopes is in the right angle and spot –_no, _her arms will not drop now, _no way –_

The sergeant glances over at her, then moves on to the next recruit in line.

_Safe._

* * *

A/N:

Standard warning for all A/Ns of mine. Don't read if you really don't like rambling.

First thing I gotta say - if you looked on my profile, I lied about the whole done by June thing, assume dead. The reason why I said 'by June' was that this chapter was done since _May. _The beginning of May. And I didn't update it because I thought this chapter was iffy (eh, I think all my chapters are iffy, I should probably get a beta-reader except I won't because I'm lazy and I don't like talking to people and the last time I had a beta reader, it took a month for my chapter to get back to me) and that this was kind of stupid when I thought about it and I'm not really in this fandom anymore anyway and my other story was much more popular anyway, better to work on that and this is a really long sentence. So that's my excuse, few people who are reading this.

I don't know anything about military training. I looked it up, I found nothing. Feel free to correct me, but the whole training thing isn't really a big part of this story anyway.

Thank you, people who reviewed last chapter. I really appreciate that, it was really encouraging. Yes, Lightning is supposed to be older. Sorry if you thought this was awkward. And... I really should be doing something else right now.

This really is way too long.


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